


Ouch, That's Hot

by Rednaelo



Series: Fraggin Nasty [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Dismemberment, Exhibitionism, Illustrated, M/M, Masochism, Sadism, Sticky Sex, Violent Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 21:36:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2041122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rednaelo/pseuds/Rednaelo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roddy & Drift amputation kink</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ouch, That's Hot

**Author's Note:**

> Concept and fic by me; art by the adorable and precious [Sasha](http://gayrusvakarian.tumblr.com/post/91986474232/rednaelo-gayrusvakarian-tiny-minibot-sitting), love of my life.

For all of the emptiness in the room, it was cacophonous, wracking in Rodimus’ audio receptors as he struggled to keep himself upright.  Optics shuttered, his processor was crowded with noise:  the harsh repetition of his own ventilation, his engine still revving feebly, spurred by the tremors of aftershocks rattling through him still.  Not to mention how every steaming push of air from his vents was accompanied by a gentle whine trickling from his lips.  Every now and then another messy glob of fluid would dribble from his valve or slip further down along the fine seams of his abdominal plating.  And then shudders would shock through him; soft discharges of electricity surging through at unanticipated intervals.

Rodimus fought to find a modicum of stability and silence with his knees on the floor and his helm tilted back as if he could swallow the lights above him and use their considerably cooler touch to help regain his bearings.  Drift, however, was serene.  Still.  Standing before his captain with complacent quiet – venting softly as the thrum of a distant star in the night – as he gazed down him, sneering, optics a searing crimson.

“Well, now… _Captain_ ,” Drift murmured – his vocalizer stirring another weak shiver from Rodimus, who blinked his optics open wearily as he panted, “it looks like you’ve succeeded in making a fragging mess of yourself.”  Drift nodded pointedly towards the puddle that had accumulated beneath Rodimus’ swollen valve and still-throbbing spike.  A gently glitched laugh burst from the kneeling bot’s vocalizer and he rolled his helm forward to get a better look at Drift standing above him.

“You were taking too long,” Rodimus said, a smirk slanting across his lips as his ventilating began to even out.  Drift’s optics narrowed unkindly, the sharpness of his denta glistening in a cruel snarl.  In answer, his pede lifted and slammed it onto Rodimus’ right hand, crushing it against the floor in an instant.

Rodimus’ spinal strut buckled as he cried out in pain.  Between splinters of cum-stained metal and damaged wiring, energon gushed out hotly, bubbling pink beneath Drift’s heel.  Rodimus scraped his digits down Drift’s thigh, scrabbling to push him off, but his efforts were largely wasted. Drift kept the pressure down on his captain’s hand until there was no longer a struggle.  Only – when Rodimus had finally given up, letting his helm rest against Drift’s knee for lack of a better place to settle – then Drift raised his other pede and kicked Rodimus against the wall, pinning him there by his shoulder.  The force was enough to completely tear the shattered remains of Rodimus’ hand from the overstretched wires of his wrist joint; his teeth pressed hard together, engine revving one again as his fans struggled to cool him down.  Hips bucking upwards, shoulders twitching, Rodimus fought to push Drift’s leg away, succeeding only in getting his still intact hand caught in his captor’s fist.

“You’re just too greedy, Rodimus, my love,” Drift said gently, tugging his hand upwards as he spoke.  Transfluid and lubricant were still slicked along Rodimus’ fingers, remnant of just a few kliks earlier when he had his digits shoved up inside himself, fingering along his sensitive nodes, and wrapped around his spike, pumping in earnest to bring himself to overload while Drift had towered above him with his own spike pressurized.  Now the residues of the thick, white fluids caused Drift to curl his lip in annoyance: a reminder of how, once again, Rodimus decided to put his own pleasure before Drift’s.  He turned his optics back towards Rodimus’ prone and beaten form, watching him try and gather his processor together from where pain had held it captive.  “I think it’s about time you give something back.”

Drift unlatched his secondary interface panel, the hot drip of lubricating fluids plain to see within the swollen lips of his valve.  A pretty-enough sight to make Rodimus shudder with want in spite of the pain still shredding through his processor.  If anything, the dizziness caused by the damage to his servo only heightened the sensations of pleasure, particularly when Drift tugged Rodimus’ intact hand all the way to the sloppy mesh, his pede still anchoring the captain in place.  The stretch was aching and made the bearings beneath Rodimus’ armor whine in harmony with the low moan (in pleasure? agony?) that pealed out from his vocalizer when his fingertips finally made gentle contact.

“Nngh…Drift, I –”

“It’s Deadlock,” Drift growled, and gave a particularly fierce yank to Rodimus’ arm, dislocating it with a snap of shrieking metal.  Rodimus cried out in pain, optics flaring bright as he vented frantically. He couldn’t bend forward to follow as Drift…as Deadlock pulled and could only stare on in wide-opticked anguish as he shoved Rodimus’s fingers inside of himself in such violent eroticism. 

“Deadlock,” Rodimus tried again, though his vocal output was scrambled hard with static as malfunction warnings crowded his visual feed, “please, please…. It hurts.”

“I only ask for what I am owed,” Deadlock hummed gently, his hips rolling a little as he fucked himself on Rodimus’ twitching digits.  His glossa wet and thick with oral solvents drew across his top lip as he surveyed the wretched sight of Rodimus panting on the floor.  “You’re still pressurized, _sir,_ ” Deadlock added, nodding his helm down to where Rodimus’s spike still dripped in earnest, the puddle beneath him wide as ever.

Rodimus’ whole chassis shuddered, optics offlining for a moment in attempt to gather his wits back together.  He could feel the distended yank of the cables in his shoulder joint.  The pain rocketing up his arm like a firework and ended in a soft burst as his fingers caressed the slippery mesh of Deadlock’s folds.  Lubricant dripped and slid into Rodimus’ joints, trailing hotly down his armor, Deadlock humming sighs and gentle moans falling around Rodimus’ audials like a shower of sparks.  Pain and pleasure twisted in tight on each other inside his framework; his arousal persisted.  There wasn’t much he could do for it, though, with one servo crushed and another forcibly borrowed.  His hips bucked up futilely, valve clenching on nothing.

“You can give me a little more, can’t you, Rodimus?” Deadlock simpered down at him mockingly. “C’mon, your beloved third officer needs you to touch deeper….”

“Oh, Primus, please, no,” Rodimus wheezed but Deadlock was already tugging even harder.  Rodimus’ scream built up like a generator engine gradually roaring to full power.  It culminated in a short-circuited shriek as Deadlock ripped his arm off with a sickening snap of metal and excess charge sparked out from frayed wires.  Hot, glowing energon flooded out of the socket, masking the soft splatter of transfluid that gushed out of Rodimus’ valve from an unpredicted overload.

He crashed against the back wall, venting hard and fast as if he didn’t know anything else.  And as his optic feed recalibrated, body still shaking from shock and overload, oral solvents and a sour mouthful of purged energon came drooling down his chin. Deadlock just stood there, chuckling ventlessly, shoving Rodimus’ fingers inside himself at a frantic pace.  Rodimus just found himself grinning deliriously as he watched, optics sliding all the way down to settle on where Deadlock’s spike still jutting impudently into his face. Deadlock gave a soft growl, vents hitching, and overloaded, transfluid spattering Rodimus’ face in thick spurts.  Rodimus twitched as the drops landed on him, cooling fans still whirring at maximum as he watched the optics above him online once again, steadily fading from red to blue.

There was a caustic clanging as Drift dropped Rodimus’ disembodied arm and, shivering, removed his pede from his captain’s shoulder.  Drift knelt before him, carefully cradling Rodimus’ sticky face and lavishing him with kisses.  Spare drips of transfluid oozed out of Rodimus as his calipers clenched and gratefully sighed into the gentle attentions. Eventually, Drift withdrew, checking over Rodimus with clinical concern on his features.

“Ratchet’s gonna kill us,” he muttered.  Rodimus just laughed aloud.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like, you can get both art and fic on tumblr at our [dumb blog!](http://fragginnasty.tumblr.com) We'd love to see you there!


End file.
